


10 Questions

by deniallisstrong



Series: Niall Tumblr Drabbles (deniallisstrong) [5]
Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: F/M, One Direction Imagines, One Shot, Tumblr: deniallisstrong
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-05-30
Updated: 2015-07-25
Packaged: 2018-04-01 22:23:33
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 4,890
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4036717
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/deniallisstrong/pseuds/deniallisstrong
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Frustrated to learn that you'll be interviewing Niall Horan on the radio, you aren't ready to tarnish your good feelings about him just yet by actually MEETING him... But maybe he doesn't turn out to be as bad as you initially thought. The point is moot, though, cause when you're around him you can't seem to think straight anyway.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

“God, no,” you groan, looking at the plan for your station for the week. “Why do I have to talk to  _Niall Horan?_ ”

“Tsk tsk,” your boss clicks, sighing. “You know who your target audience is.” She pulls out her handy binder of charts, her long, perfectly manicured fingers skimming over your ratings. They are, of course, all almost exclusively within the under 18 and 18-30 age range.

“I know,” you whine, fully aware of  _why_  he was on your show. That didn’t mean you had to be happy about it though.

“Besides, I thought you  _liked_  that Direction band or whatever.” Casting off all of your concerns with a flick of her wrist, she adds, “I worked hard for you to get this. I _thought_ you’d be praising me at my feet. Every other girl would be  _dying_ for seven minutes with Niall Horan, if you catch my drift.” Grinning at you, you roll your eyes at her lack of subtlety.

“Oh, stop!” You cry, feeling your face grow hot. You continue on, more seriously this time, “That’s the problem, though. I’ve met  _way_  too many rude celebrities to be excited to shatter whatever naive good feelings I have about him.”

Opening the door, she calls back to you, one eyebrow raised, “”Who knows? Maybe you’ll get lucky this time.”

“ _Shit_ ,” you mutter once she’s out of view, your pulse involuntary starting to race.

**************

Your head pounding, you rearrange the papers on your desk again, making sure that Niall’s papers across from you are also perfectly set up. You don’t need another bitchy comment from a celebrity about  _that_  this time. Sighing, you quickly leave the room to go find a cold bottled water for Niall. Rushing back, your feel you heart sink into your stomach when you see through the window that Niall is already sitting in his chair. “I’m so sorry I wasn’t here,” you apologize, talking a thousand miles per hour. Still holding the water bottle, you wave it around for a moment as you try to figure out where to put it–on his desk, in his hand? After a moment of pondering, you finally set it on his desk, right next to his open hand. Clearing your throat, you add, “I got you a bottled water. Do you want anything else, Mr. Horan? I mean, we have coffee, tea, soda, flavored wa—”

He chuckles under his breath. “This is fine, thank ya.” Finally looking up from his notes, he smiles slowly at you. “And, please, call me Niall.”

Fiddling with your hands by your side, you simply nod at him, unsure of what to make of this strangely polite behavior. Walking over to the chair opposite him, you start to lead him through the plan. “First, I’ll introduce you, of course, and then—”

He clears his throat, and you stop, looking up from your notes with what you’re sure look like wild eyes. “And what do I call ya?”

“Oh,” you blush, your thoughts slowing to a crawl. “Y/N,” you shakily respond, attempting to keep an even tone.  _Goddammit_ , you’d never had so much trouble talking to anyone before in your life.

“And don’t worry,” he reassures. “I read through the notes already, so I know what ta do.”

“Wow, you’re ready then,” you say, sounding more surprised than you mean to. “I’m impressed,” you finish, trying to lighten up your tone.

“I do me best, love,” he answers, effortlessly taking a swig of his water.  “Let’s do this, Y/N,” he smirks, giving you a wink.

Feeling his eyes on you, you attempt to introduce him as you would for anyone else. Meaning without sounding nervous or–God forbid–lovestruck.

“First up, I have ten questions for Niall that were submitted by listeners here at Radio One.”

At first, the questions that you ask him start out fairly simple–coffee or tea (tea), “Stay With Me” or “Thinking Out Loud” (“Thinking Out Loud”), and  _Twilight_  or _Fifty Shades of Gray_  (having to choose, he ends up with  _Fifty Shades of Gray_ ). But then the pauses between Niall’s answers lengthen as he scrunches up his face, lost in thought.

“L.A. or London?” Interested in how he’s going to answer this question, you finally glance up from your lap, immediately (accidentally) making eye contact with him.

“I know that I’m here in America, so it’s probably not gonna be the popular answer, but…” He dramatically pauses for a moment before he finishes. “London.”

“Why is that?” You ask, cocking your head slightly, feeling your heart pound from his eyes that are still unflinchingly locked on yours.

“When I was in LA recently, I didn’t, well, I didn’t… have my ID and I had ta Google meself to get into a club!”

You laugh abruptly, surprised at his answer. “Sorry about that,” you start, your voice coming out a little breathy. “America is just, well, just like that.” Shrugging, you continue, “Also, the questions are just gonna get harder now, so good luck.” You give him a look of pity, truly feeling guilty for putting him on the spot like this. Maybe you should have chosen different questions.

“Taylor Swift or Meghan Trainor?” He breathes in through his teeth, and there’s an audible pause as he thinks it over, drumming his fingers on the desk.

“Harry’s gonna hate me fa this… but Taylor Swift.”

Breaking his eye contact–because you know the next question coming up–you hold back the urge to sigh loudly. “Pajamas, boxers, or, uhh, commando?” Suddenly very interested in your paper, you don’t look at him, even when you see him chuckling out of the corner of your eye.

When he doesn’t respond for a couple of seconds, your curiosity gets the best of you and you finally look up, just enough for his gaze to meet yours.  
“I know the answer everyone wants me ta say, but I’m gonna go with boxers,” he replies, a little smile on his face.

By everyone did he mean you? Oh God, what the _fuck_  is going on?

Feeling the heat from your face travel to your chest, you laugh unconvincingly as you shift around in your seat. But when you realize there’s only one question left, a wave of relief washes over you. “Okay, one more,” you say, forcing a smile so that you sound better over the radio.

Knowing this is arguably the weirdest question for him to answer, you pause halfway through, losing courage. “Date a fan or date a,” you gulp, the sound bouncing around the room. “Band member?”

This one shocks Niall the most. He laughs forcefully, directly into the microphone. So far, he hasn’t looked surprised by any of the questions, but this one finally cracks his calm exterior.

Thinking for a moment, he answers smoothly, “Neither.”

“Neither?” You clarify, confused. That was definitely not the answer you expected. “I thought you said you’d be open to dating a fan?”

“Ah, so you  _do_ know about me, after all,” he teases, wriggling his eyebrows at you. When you don’t respond he explains himself, “I’d date an interviewer, though.”

His flirting catches you so off guard you whip your head up to stare at him. Not sure what to answer–and you get paid to  _never_  have that happen–you simply force yourself to laugh as you reply, “Okay.” You can’t have dead air. “Moving on,” you blurt, your voice louder than you mean it. Jesus, you sound as flustered as you feel.

“Now, can I ask  _ya_  those ten questions?” He flashes you a smile.

“No” is all you’re able to respond in a deadpan tone. Before he can derail you any further, you delve right into the new album, the upcoming tour, everything that you were  _supposed_  to be talking about. He contains himself this time, allowing you to lead the discussion as you had been hoping to.

The second the microphones are off, though, you start in on Niall, eyes blazing. “What the  _hell_ was that?” You bark, feeling a strange sense of anger and confusion, and you can’t tell if anything that’s happening is real or just your imagination. “Were you  _trying_  to embarrass me? _Yourself_?”

His face goes blank for a moment, unreadable. Finally, he gives you an apologetic smile and his voice is quiet but serious. “I’m sorry, love. I wasn’t  _tryna_ embarrass ya. Your smile rendered me dazed, and, well, a little not like myself.”

He really does sound sorry. You don’t mean to give in so easily, but you feel the tension wrapped tight around your body begin to loosen. “Like a lost puppy?” Jokingly, you give him the puppy eyes.

“Exactly,” he nods, and you can tell he’s immensely enjoying your expression. “Now, how about we discuss the answer to the same ten questions ya gave me over a—” He interrupts himself to glance at his Rolex. “I was gonna say drink, but it’s only ten in the mornin here.”

You laugh, knowing the jet lag must be affecting him more than he lets on. “A cup of coffee?” You finish for him.

He hums, agreeing. “That’s what I meant.”

You look him over, never really having had the chance or the desire to do so earlier. When you look too closely at him–his brilliant eyes, his freckles, his honest smile–you feel your knees begin to buckle. “Why _me_?” You ask, your voice softer now. “I mean, literally every girl in the world would _kill_  to have even seven minutes with you.”

“What? Seven minutes?”  _Shit, that came out wrong. Damn it._  Eyebrows raised and with an amused expression on his face, you can tell he’s pieced together your thought process.

“Never mind,” you sigh, frustrated that, for once, you can’t seem to get the right words out of your mouth.

“Well, fa starters, you’re beautiful,” he says factually, not a trace of doubt in his voice. “But more than that you’re a mystery ta me. I want ta know who ya really are off of these airwaves.” As he gestures to the equipment around you, you can tell the words coming out of his mouth aren’t part of any show, any ploy.

You pause, actually considering his proposition. If you’re being honest with yourself, his answer is much better than you expected.

“Well, I suppose one cup of coffee couldn’t hurt,” you speculate. “Or tea in your case.”

“Perfect,” he murmurs and grabs his sunglasses off the table, placing them on the top of his head. Holding the door open for you, you slide through the doorway, your eyes glancing up to see your manager. Her head poking out from her office, her face lights up as she sees Niall exit right behind you, too close to simply just be leaving at the same time. 

“I see you!” She calls out gleefully as you two walk out of the building, shoulders touching from your proximity. Waving your hand behind you, you brush her away as Niall’s booming voice and your content laugh echo throughout the hall and out into the open air.


	2. The "Interview"

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Realizing that you and Niall can't be seen together without making a scene, you have to pretend you're simply interviewing him instead of on a date... Too bad Niall can't stop being a tease.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I was requested to do a second part to this... if people are interested I might continue on with it?? Let me know??

“ _Shit_ , Niall, wait.” You grab his arm before he has the chance to step outside. You sigh deeply, knowing what you have to say but hating it. “We can’t just  _go out to coffee_.” You point out, raising your eyebrows at him.

He just looks at you for a moment, his eyebrows slightly furrowing as he realizes what you’re saying. “ _Damn it_ , you’re right,” he breathes, running his fingers through his hair. “Jesus Christ, I hate this,” he says more to himself than you.

“I mean, I’m not  _that_  well known…” You trail off, trying to rationalize the risk. When he runs his fingers through his hair like that, giving you a little pout, your first instinct is to follow him to the fucking ends of the earth. “But it’d make the news. And  _God knows_  neither of us need that.”

“Couldn’t ya have just let me live in me fantasy world fa a bit?” Sighing, his voice thick with frustration, you honestly can’t imagine having to deal with that burden  _all the time._

Seeing you suddenly smirk, he gives you a quizzical look. “I have an idea,” you beam. “Meet me there in ten minutes. The address is 327 Third St. That way.” You point in the general direction of the coffee shop. “Also,” you warn, your eyes never leaving his, “Make sure you leave out the back door where no one will see you.”

Spinning on your heel, you start to head towards the other exit. “Darlin, this is takin ‘hard to get’ ta a new level!” He calls out to your back. Not turning your head around, you simply wave your fingers at him, a grin growing on your face.

**************

The doorbell over the door finally ringing, you look up from your cozy spot near the corner of the shop to see Niall heading towards you. Taking off his sunglasses and flashing you a smile as he heads towards you, you exclaim, “I already got your tea,  _Mr. Horan_.”

His eyebrows shoot up at the name. He doesn’t question it, though. Not when he’s so far away from you and not quite sure of your mysterious  _plan._

“So, this should only take about half an hour,” you holler, just loud enough for the rest of the restaurant to hear. As Niall finally strolls over to where you are, his eye catches sight of the tape recorder on the table, obviously set where everyone can see it.

Looking up from the notes that you’re noticeably holding in the air, you set them down to shake his hand. “Nice to see you again,” you say, attempting to avoid any expression in your voice. His hand against yours starts your heart racing, your thoughts a blur. As you pull away from his touch after what was already probably considered too long, you sigh. If only you were able to keep your hand intertwined with his.

“I see what’s happenin,” he replies knowingly after a moment, his voice only slightly quieter than yours.

“You ready to start?”

“I’m ready fa anythin,” he taunts, giving you a little wink.

“Subtle, Niall,” you mutter, wondering if that was even  _possible_ for him. “We  _have_  to make this look real for  _both_  of us.” Still, you can’t help but give him a little smile.

Letting out a little sigh, he nods. Not exactly what he had in mind for a coffee date, but he’ll take what he can get.

“Tell me a little about the fifth album. How’s the writing going?”

Instead of answering the question, he states, firmly but quietly, “Okay, fine. Ya can ask your questions ta make sure it looks real. But since I’ve already answered  _more_  than enough questions this mornin, now it’s me turn.”

“Oh, that’s  _very_  interesting,” you respond, giving him a very purposeful nod. The very idea makes your palms start to sweat. Everything he did just made you so God damn nervous, constantly put you on the edge. 

“Yes or no questions. That way ya can nod or somethin without bein too obvious.”

When you don’t respond, he teases, his eyes sparkling, “It’s  _me_  turn ta run the show.” Shit, he was enjoying this  _way_  too much.

“Which member is hardest to get along with?”

He inhales through his teeth. “Good thin I don’t have ta answer that,” he smiles. “Do ya actually like One Direction?”

You nod a little sheepishly. “I can see why that would be annoying,” you reply to his imaginary response.

“Is this a ‘I want him ta come back on the show’ kind of date? Or do ya actually like me?“

“ _Yeah_ , that second one would catch me off guard, too,” you laugh nervously, your eyes trained on his. Damn, your breath was certainly a bit shaky for this only supposedly being an interview.

“Is this your first date with someone from your show?” Niall asks, a seriousness suddenly coming over him.

You pause for a moment. You had hoped that wouldn’t come up. Looking down at your notes, you bite your lip as you consider your reply. “No… way! Really??” You finally utter, the words not sounding very convincing.

Now his curiosity was getting the best of him. “ _Who was it_?” He presses, his voice accidentally raising a bit.

“What’s the funniest thing that’s happened on the tour bus so far?” You continue on, shaking your head at him slightly. That was  _not_  a yes or no question. Thankfully.

“Shit,” he mutters under his breath. “This is a hard thin ta keep up.” His voice is beginning to get louder again. Loud enough that someone could catch on.

You move your lips into a shushing motion, holding back a chuckle. His eyes lock on your lips. Leaning in slyly, he whispers, “Ya know, I didn’t say it in the interview…” His voice tapers off as he attempts to hold back a laugh. “But if  _ya_ were in me bed I wouldn’t be wearin boxers.” He gives you a little wink, making you wanna kiss the smirk right off his pretty little face.

Goosebumps piercing your skin at the thought, your heart pounding, you mouth “Oh my  _God_.”

“I got a reaction from ya! A  _real_  reaction. Mission accomplished,” he grins, leaning back into the seat and smugly taking a sip of his tea.

If you could, there would be so many things you would be doing to  _him_ to get a reaction.  _Jesus_ , this was so unfair.

“You’re gonna get us  _caught!”_ You cry, attempting to keep your voice low. A chuckle escaping your mouth, you clear your throat loudly.

“What are you most excited for in this coming up year?” You say, and then lean in. Forcing him to do the same so he can hear you, now it’s your turn to give him a small smirk as you raise your eyebrows. You can’t just let him get away with a comment like that. “And  _don’t_  say taking me home, Niall.”

Despite his intentions, a laugh bursts out of Niall’s mouth, surprise etched onto his face. “What do I say instead, then?” He asks, raising one eyebrow.

“I don’t know,” you shrug as you sit back in your chair. “That’s all of  _my_ questions for you.” When he gives you a little frown, you whisper, “If we’re here too long, it’ll be a problem.”

“Can I at least walk ya back ta your workplace?” He pleads, his voice low.

“Nah-ah,  _Niall Horan_  wouldn’t do that for some  _radio commenter_ ,” you point out quietly.

“Does that mean I don’t even get a goodbye kiss?” He sighs, very well knowing the answer to that question.

You pack up all of your things, grabbing the two empty cups. Leaving Niall alone at the table, you lilt, “Not  _this_ time.”

Watching you go, a curse word on the tip of his tongue, he turns back to the table to grab his sunglasses.  _That’s odd_ , Niall thought.  _She took the empty cups but left her napkin at the table?_  Sliding it towards him so that he can throw it away for you, the sight of something out of the ordinary stops him. Written very neatly in pen was your phone number along with the words  _next time, somewhere private_. This gal was gonna be the death of him.


	3. Pizza on China

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Niall hasn’t forgotten about your request for somewhere private

“And so, this week, what we need to do is—“ Your boss’ high pitched voice halts at the sudden sound of a xylophone chiming.

Glancing down anxiously at your purse, where you’re  _sure_  the noise is coming from, you clear your throat a bit. Mumbling an apology, you pull out your phone to see that the number has no caller ID. “It might be someone wondering about scheduling an interview or something, so maybe I should–”

“Go ahead, go ahead,” your boss scoffs, waving you away from the already unproductive meeting.

Practically running out of the room so you don’t miss the call, you’re breathing shallowly by the time you answer. Picking up on your breathlessness, the voice on the other end of the line teases, “Ahh, breathless from me already, eh?” Your heart recognizes the Irish accent immediately. You know because as soon as the words reach your ear, it starts pounding furiously. Maybe you should have been expecting the call, waiting for it even. In all reality, though, you had gotten so busy you had forgotten all about it, even though you had only seen him a couple of days ago. But, then again, celebrities had never really been the type to call you back before.

“ _Niall_ ,” you whine. “You almost got me in trouble.”

He chuckles, no doubt from your childlike cry. “Sorry, darlin. It’s just, ya know, it’s me last day here in LA.” Trailing off, he leaves the rest of his words unspoken.

“Ahh, you liked the idea of somewhere private, didn’t you?” You smile, lowering your voice in case anyone can hear you.

“I didn’t forget” is all he says in response, his own voice quieting.

“Well, I  _suppose_  you could just happen to stumble upon 903 24th St. at seven tonight if you so desired.” The weak nonchalance behind your voice does nothing to mask the smile lurking on your face.

“Alright, well, if you’ll provide the location, I’ll bring the food then.”

Knowing the inevitable question that’s going to come out of his mouth, you interrupt him before he can finish, “Surprise me.”

**************

The warm food beginning to burn his legs as the box sits on his lap, Niall shifts in the back seat of the old beat-up Subaru. “Here!” Niall calls out suddenly to his driver, Roger, making him have to slam on the brakes. “Thanks, mate! I’ll find a way home or give ya a call if I can’t.” Roger just nods, watching Niall carefully as he gets out. “And don’t tell Richard that you’re not with me.  _Please_.”

Roger smiles, a sort of  _ahh, young love_ kind of look on his face. “Just don’t get in trouble,” he sighs, already imagining his ass on the line if he did.

“I think I’ll be alright,” Niall grins, his heart beating faster as the high-rise apartments come into view.

“Over here!” Niall’s eyes hesitantly shift to the large glass doors, where the unexpected exclamation came from. Focusing on a radio commentator in a blue lacey sundress, Niall sees you enthusiastically waving him nearer.

“ _Pizza guy_!” You holler as Niall confusedly climbs the stairs to where you are. After pretending to frantically look around for your purse–and not being able to find it–you sigh at him dramatically. “Oh, shit, I forgot my money.”  Giving him a hard look, you say, a little too loudly, “I’ll have to go get it. Come.” Ushering him quickly inside the building, you whisk him to the elevator without another word.

“What the _fuck_?” Niall asks once the elevator doors finally close and you two start your ascend.

Shrugging at him, you chuckle, “Once I saw your pizza box, I figured I should just go with it. There’s a lot of people here that know me and who would  _probably_ know you too.” Finally looking Niall up and down, you give him a little half smile. “You pull off the ‘nobody’ look well, though.” He’s wearing a Stanford hoodie, the hood drawn tight over his head, and gray sweatpants with an unidentifiable stain running down the side of it.

“I’m gonna pretend that’s a compliment,” he retorts, adding, “But ya didn’t have ta make me feel like a piece of shit.”

Glancing over quickly to gauge his expression, about ready to heartily apologize for your comment, you realize he’s talking about  _your_  outfit. “Well, the less it looks like we’re on a date the better. And when the guy shows up wearing holey sweatpants…” You wink at him as the elevator door opens, taking the lead.

“Heyyyyy,” he groans, squinting as he scans his pants for holes. “Ya better watch what ya say if ya want any of  _me_  pizza.” He holds the box up in the air, just out of your reach as he sticks his tongue out at you.

“Alright, alright,” you concede, pausing from opening your door to lift your arms in the air in a surrendering motion. Pushing open the door and rushing him inside, you start, “Would it make you feel better if I said…” You pause, closing the door behind Niall as your hand lightly graces his shoulder, you lipstick-covered mouth finding his ear. “That you still looked _hot as hell_?” You whisper seductively, hearing his breath quiver just slightly before you grab for the box and dash towards the kitchen.

“No one’s gonna stop me from pizza!” You cry out, laughing as Niall swears under his breath. “Not even you,” you smirk.

“See, I thought  _ya_  were the calm, rational one,” he says, shaking his head as he follows you into the kitchen. Still, a chuckle slips out of his mouth at your victorious expression.

“Oh, hon, you haven’t seen me in the  _wild_.” Before he has the chance to respond to that arguably dirty remark, you finish, “Besides, after your comment about you naked in my bed…” You clear your throat as a smirk slides onto your face. “You deserved that.” Not allowing him an opportunity to make yet  _another_ similar comment, you pull out two plates and raise your eyebrows at him. “Paper or china?”

“Only the finest, dear, ta go with this,” he responds, pulling out cheap napkins with the local pizza chain’s logo strapped all the way along them, as well as something else you can’t quite identify. “Where are we sittin?” He asks, still awkwardly cradling his multitude of items. You gesture with your head to the nearby dining room table. As he sets down the napkins, he says, “You have a lighter?”

Wrinkling up your nose, you squint your eyes at the things in his hands, still trying to figure them out. “Uhh, this is a non-smoking apart–” You begin, before Niall smirks at you, his expression making you hesitate.

Niall adoringly rolls his eyes at you before responding, “They’re candles, babe.”

“Oh” is all you can sheepishly reply. Candles were  _also_  not normal for a celebrity. Rummaging through your drawers and finally finding the lighter, you turn to admire Niall’s handiwork. Grinning at the juxtaposition that is your table, you hand him the lighter. A mahogany dining room table, set with china and expensive candles, but filled with pizza and cheap napkins. It seems fitting, though. Today, Niall is the pizza and the napkins and you are the candles and the china.

Sneaking a look at Niall, you watch his eyes finally scan the open layout of your apartment, stopping on every single piece of art and furniture. “So, ya like art, huh?” He gives you a little smile, taking a seat in the chair directly across from you.

You just nod, not quite sure how to respond. Was he asking because he was really interested or just already lost for words? “If I hadn’t gone to school for sound engineering and everything, I would have probably majored in art.” Niall’s face goes fuzzy as your eyes glaze over, thinking of how different your life would have been. How you never would have met Niall. But how you also wouldn’t have met any of the heartbreakers, either.

“If I hadn’t become, err, a singer…” His voice tapers off as he attempts to avoid any talk about being  _famous_. “I think I would’ve gone inta sound engineerin like ya.” That’s the realest, most honest thing he’s said to you so far. Niall is always the charmer, the teaser, but now, also, the thinker? This new characteristic gives you pause as you store it into your memory, adding to the complexity that is–and always will be–Niall.

“Maybe I would have met you there instead. It would have been easier, wouldn’t it?” You sigh, your foot gently tapping his under the table.

Giving you a sad half smile, he gulps and pauses for a moment. You can tell from his expression he wants to avoid the subject. And avoid it he does. “So, ya live alone, huh?”  

You smirk, cocking your eyebrow at him. “Why, you worried you’re the side action?”

A laugh bubbles up from his stomach, filling every crack and crevice in your whole apartment. It had been too long since your apartment had heard a noise like that. “Well, I  _am_ a bit curious about why you’re so worried about me. Ya afraid of me?” He phrases it like a joke, even flashing you a grin–but you’re both well aware it’s not one.

You hum in response, pointing at him before you start, “How about…” You abruptly stand up out of your chair, strolling over to the kitchen and rummaging around in your drawers until you find a bottle opener and two wine glasses. “We come back to that after a bit of wine?”

“Only seems fitting with our fancy ass pizza, doesn’t it?” Niall laughs, his eyes brightening at the idea. Grabbing a wine glass from your hand, he warns, “I’m gonna hold ya ta that promise.”


End file.
